


Some Princes Don't Become Kings

by Cloverponyz



Series: Falling Empires AU [1]
Category: Hermitcraft, Minecraft Evolution
Genre: Angst, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Watcher!Grian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-14 09:37:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20598629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloverponyz/pseuds/Cloverponyz
Summary: For nearly a year, Grian thought he was safe. That the past was in the past. He was wrong.A bedrock symbol, a cryptic message, a challenge that cannot go unanswered.A past that will not stay buried.They are hunting him, and will stop at nothing to get him back.





	1. Sign of the Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grian gets a message.
> 
> TW for panic attacks, just to be safe

**GoodTimeWithScar**: Hey guys, you might wanna see this 

Grian frowned at his communicator, brushing a strand of mousy brown hair out of his face. He was hard at work at Hermitville, expanding his house ever upward, adding fences along the edge of the huge, crooked building. The sky was bright and clear of clouds, though being this high up lent a chill to the air. The rapidly expanding village sprawled out below him, a painting of stone and spruce. The wind whistled, high and reedy, tangling his hair and tugging at his clothes. His elytra fluttered. 

**Xisumavoid**: What’s up? 

**GoodTimeWithScar**: There’s a new building at the shopping district and it’s made of bedrock 

**Iskall85**: What the heck?? Where 

**GoodTimeWithScar**: By Grian’s pickle shop 

**Iskall85**: Omw with Mumbo 

Grian’s blood turned to ice. 

_No. Nononononono. No way. This can’t be happening. It’s not possible, I was so careful, it can’t be them, no no no nonono- _

His elytra snapped open and Grian faintly realized he was falling. Instinct took over and he burst out a rocket, twisting sideways and narrowly avoiding crashing into Mumbo’s house. He hit the ground off balance and fell to his knees, breath coming in shaky gasps. _Nononono- _

A small voice piped up in the back of his head. The calm, rational side of his brain spoke plainly, barely audible over the raw panic and overwhelming fear choking him. It might not be the Watchers, it reasoned. _Even if it was, it might not be the ones from Evo. And even if it is, I I can’t do anything about it from here. I have to get up and go find out. It’s worse not knowing. _

Grian exhaled slowly, climbing to his feet with jerky movements. Right, okay, shopping district. He had a plan. It might not be them. 

Trying his best to bury the panic threatening to engulf him, Grian entered the portal and flew to the old lands. 

***

The shopping district was bright with colour. Coming from Hermitville, where almost everything was green and brown and grey, the vibrant shades hurt his eyes. Grian wheeled through the air, thick with cotton white clouds, angling lower as he saw Sahara’s familiar shape rise up in front of him. He spied his old pickle shop quickly and swooped through the air, rockets whizzing behind him. 

A handful of Hermits stood around the structure. X was deep in conversation with Scar, who looked downright perplexed. Wels stood alone, scratching his head, helmet tucked under one arm. Grian breathed easier when he spotted Mumbo and Iskall standing together in the shadow of another shop. The other Architechs looked a bit frazzled. Redstone dust stained Mumbo’s dark sleeves, and there was sand in Iskall’s hair. 

“What’s going on?” Grian asked, landing beside his friends, his voice even and unperturbed. 

“Look behind you,” Mumbo gestured, “it’s _bedrock!_ No one can build with bedrock, not even X, and he’s not like the rest of us!” 

“Calm down Mr. Mumbo I-can-sense-the-redstone-in-my-mind Jumbo,” Iskall laughed, robotic eye glinting, “no one’s like us. But yeah, this is weird, even for Hermitcraft.” 

Unwillingly, Grian turned around. 

His heart stopped. 

A Watcher symbol floated above the ground, built of familiar black bedrock, an explosion of obsidian and sandstone erupting from the ground around it. 

“Is there a sign?” He asked slowly, forcing himself to step closer to the build and examine every detail. 

“No,” Iskall said with a shake of his head. “That makes it stranger. If this is a prank there should be a sign, right?” 

“How could this be a prank?” Mumbo demanded, his voice edging on hysterical. “It’s bedrock, Iskall! Am I the only one worried about that little detail?” 

Grian turned back to his friends, frowning slightly. “Mumbo, are you okay?” 

“Yes, I’m fine, well, mostly, I haven’t been sleeping well lately, but that’s beside the point, this thing-“ he broke off, shaking his arm at the build, “this thing wasn’t here two hours ago when we were working on Sahara, and no one on this server can manipulate bedrock. What if we’ve been, I don’t know, invaded? And, and we didn’t notice because we were all off at Hermitville?” His voice was erratic, eyes wide and darting, pacing as he talked. 

Iskall stared up at the structure. “Invaded? By who? I don’t know anyone who can use bedrock. You should ask Doc, maybe it’s someone from his old group.” 

“He’s never mentioned it before. Even if it is, why’d they build that? I mean-“ 

Grian blocked out the rest of the conversation, heart racing. He knew who it was, what they were, how they worked. What he didn’t know was how they’d found him, what they wanted, or what they planned to do. He tasted bile in the back of his throat and his sweater itched against his skin. The sun was hotter and the air heavier. He could barely draw a breath. 

His wings twitched. 

For half a heartbeat, Grian thought everything was over then and there. His world ended once again. But no, he was still safe, his wings- his Watcher wings- still tucked into the Galaxy. They were the last reminder of what he used to be. His staff and mask were gone, left behind, his magic unused for months. The only thing left were the wings. 

And, despite everything, he couldn’t get rid of them. 

First of all, it would hurt worse than anything he’d ever felt before, and Grian was no chicken, but he knew in his gut that it would be _bad. _And a small part of him didn’t want to lose them. A small, selfish part that burned with shame at the freedom he’d found in flying, actually flying, the joy it brought him. Elytra didn’t even come close. The wings had made it, well, not bearable, but better, and even now, months after escaping, months of keeping them dormant, he couldn’t give them up. 

“Grian? Hellloooo?” 

Grian jumped. 

“What?” 

Mumbo sighed fondly. “We’ve been talking to you for the last five minutes, or trying to, anyway.” 

“Are you okay, man?” Iskall added, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You look a bit pale.” 

“I’m alright,” Grian assured them quickly, nudging Iskall’s hand away. “Pinky promise.” 

“Well,” X announced, his voice amplified by the speakers in his suit.

The gathered Hermits stood at attention as he spoke. 

“Until we know more about this, uh, build, we’re going to avoid interacting with it. I’ll set up a perimeter for protection, and if your shop is blocked or otherwise affected you should go empty it out for the time being. I’ll let the other Hermits know as well. As far as I can tell, this looks to be regular ol’ blocks, even the bedrock, though I dunno how it got up here. Anyway, be careful, and let everyone know if you find something out.” 

Grian hesitated. His inner thoughts were a whirlwind, wrestling with explaining the sign and keeping quiet. He’d survived this long, carried his secret for well over half a year. He’d never expected for the Watchers to find him, not after everything he’d done to avoid detection. He’d even thrown up a goddamn _world border! _Though he’d had to break it to allow the update through. 

Wait. 

Had that done it?

Had taking down the border released a surge of magic so strong the Watchers had noticed? 

_Was this all his fault?_

Grian barely registered saying goodbye to the others, head spinning. His palms were sweaty, his breathing hitched. He barely made it to his base in the futuristic district before collapsing. 

Sobs wracked his body, the coldness of the base floor seeping into his bones. Tears burned hot and salty on his cheeks, and his elytra slipped off with a dull thud. Grian kicked them away, bent double, unable to hold in his emotions any longer. 

He’d ruined everything. He’d brought the Watchers straight to Hermitcraft. The Hermits had somehow avoided them for years, and he spent a few months with the group and now they were all in terrible danger. It was selfishness, pure and simple. He should never have stayed. He was putting them all in danger, even now. From his closest friends to the Hermits he still didn’t know as well, every single one of them were in danger because of him. 

It was all his fault. 

A sob burst from his throat, raw and aching and full of grief. Seconds later, a bright flash burst from his chest, enveloping his body, fading away instantly, and from Grian’s back sprouted a pair of beautiful feathered wings. 

They were beautiful and breathtaking and violet and black, like staring into the Void, like the End and magic and the Galaxy itself. And they were there, physical, real. Bursting with magic, crackling with purple energy. 

Crying, he barely noticed them, the vestigial sign of his Watcherhood. Because that was what he was. A Watcher. Regardless of how he came to be one, of how hard he fought, of what he lost, he was still a Watcher, and they were coming to take back what was theirs. 

“Grian?” 

His head shot up, eyes wide and bloodshot. 

Mumbo stood at the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helllllo, my name is Clover, and welcome to the first chapter of my long-awaited Hermitcraft fanfiction! This is my first Hermitcraft fic (and first fanfic of anything I've actually posted), and is tentatively the first of a series. My tumblr is guudeboulderfist, which is where I'll be posting information relating to this fic, including when the next update is going to be. I've done some prewriting, but I am currently in school and real life gets busy fast, so regular updates might not last very long lol. Anyyyyway, questions? Comments? Concerns? Or just yelling in the comments? It's pretty late for me rn, so this AN probably isn't very coherent, but I'm posting anyway because I don't want to lose the nerve! See you in the next one!


	2. A Wing and a Prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His response.

For a moment, no one moved. 

“Um, Grian?” Mumbo said tentatively. “Are you, um, okay?” He winced, realizing how stupid the question sounded, hanging in the air. 

“Right, okay,” Mumbo muttered when Grian just started blankly, jogging across the open expanse of the base, and kneeling beside the shaking figure of his friend. 

“I’m… I’m fine,” Grian hiccuped, refusing to meet Mumbo’s eyes. 

“Grian, not to state the obvious, but you’re lying on the floor crying, and, um, well, not to alarm you, but you have...wings.” 

“I noticed,” he mumbled, forcing himself into a sitting position. 

Mumbo reached out a tentative hand. 

“NO!” Grian snapped, smacking the redstoner’s hand away from his wings. “Don’t touch them!” 

Mumbo scrambled back, shocked. “Do they… do they hurt?” He asked softly. “I mean, you’re crying, they must hurt- was it the bedrock thing that did this? It mutated you? Oh my gosh, Grian, I’m so sorry! And you were one of the normal ones, too… but, you know, out of all the things to mutate, wings are pretty cool. To think, you could’ve gotten, like, crab hands, or something.” 

Grian snorted through his tears, barely registering a third of Mumbo’s ravings. “Crab hands? D’you mean pincers? I’ll have you know I’m a _biologist_, Mumbo.” 

“Yeah, sure, and I actually do a lot of martial arts in my free time,” Mumbo giggled. 

The idea of Mumbo, in all his gangly glory, fighting in hand-to-hand combat, suit and all, was so funny that Grian burst out laughing. 

Soon they were both shaking with laughter, Grian barely able to breathe, but the knot in his stomach a lot looser. 

“Hey, um, Grian,” Mumbo giggled, trying desperately to regain his composure, “there’s, uh, purple lightning stuff jumping off your back.” 

“Huh.” Grian glanced over his shoulder, feigning surprise. 

Magic crackled and burned and jumped across his wings, his back, his hair, fizzed and leaped and twisted like a living thing. Purple and glittery and glowing. 

Mumbo stared in wonder. 

“It’s incredible,” he murmured. “Can you control that?” 

“The magic?” Grian asked, scrunching his face. “It’s like, um, well, it’s a lot like redstone, actually, and you know I’m rubbish with that.” 

He’d been a Watcher long enough to know that redstone was more magic than mineral. 

“Do you think I could control it?” Mumbo said slowly, mind going a hundred miles a minute, puzzling over the idea like it was a particularly difficult contraption. 

“I mean, maybe? You’re welcome to try.” 

Grian knew the excess magic was so strong only because of how long he’d shut his wings up in the Galaxy. Keeping them locked away for so long was dangerous, and the magic was irritated. This much energy could short circuit Mumbo’s entire base. It would burn off eventually, Grian knew, and he had enough control over his magic- even after a year of ignoring its existence- that if something were to go wrong, he could probably fix it. Probably. 

Mumbo sat crosslegged in front of Grian, who copied the position. Mumbo closed his eyes and held out a hand, and it started to glow. 

Mumbo’s magic was a pale red, pulsing gently as he concentrated. His eyes would turn red as well, Grian knew, and while his magic wasn’t particularly dangerous by itself, redstone only heightened his powers, and sometimes he’d get overwhelmed. 

Grian didn’t like to think about that. 

Mumbo hummed under his breath, the light growing stronger, and Grian watched in wonder as magic rose from his wings. 

The purple arcs twisted through the air, responding to Mumbo’s powers, shifting and turning and creating elaborate patterns in the air above them. An elegant rose, a leaping dolphin, an angry Blaze. It smelled like summer and the sea and fresh bread and flowers growing. The magic fizzled and burst in an explosion of colour, of violet and ruby, fading to a soft mist and disappearing. 

“Wow,” Grian said softly, “that was… wow.” 

Mumbo opened his eyes, a grin on his face. “Didn’t think that would work, honestly. Can you move them, the wings? Do you think you can fly?” 

“I can try.” 

“Listen, Grian, I know it sucks, uh, mutating, or at least it did for me, but I promise it gets better. Though you’re probably going to have to cut holes in all your shirts.” 

Grian laughed at that. He stood, wiping the remnants of tears out of his eyes. 

“Ok, let’s give this a try. If this works, we can sell my bajillion elytra at Sahara. If it doesn’t, then I’ll have to walk everywhere, because I have _no idea_ how I’m going to put elytra on over these things.” 

With that, Grian’s wings shot open. He flexed them experimentally, feathers gleaming, stretching, and it all came back to him in a rush. Shooting Mumbo a confident grin, Grian jumped into the air and flew. 

He twisted upwards, wings cutting through the air with expert ease, flying in lazy circles around the first floor of his base. He swooped behind the potatube, wings outstretched, aligned with the ground. Wind whistled in his ears, tickled his feathers, and Grian whooped in exhilaration. 

He’d missed this. 

You didn’t fly with an elytra. The shimmering purple membranes were built for gliding, but this, this was _flying_. There wasn’t anything like it. He’d seen a lot, done more, learned magic and explored worlds, but in all his years, nothing came close to flying. 

Mumbo watched his friend swoop and dive and cut through his base, and smiled. Grian was a natural. He’d always been a good flyer, one of the best, easily, but this was a different level entirely. And to think, he’d been crying in pain just minutes ago. Whatever that purple lightning had been- magic, Grian had called it- obviously hurt like hell, and it was pure luck his own powers had been able to get rid of it. 

Grian reluctantly landed, wings folding into a comfortable position on his back. 

“I think it’s safe to say that was a success.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Mumbo exclaimed. “That was incredible! You got it right away! It took me forever to learn how my powers worked, though I suppose wings are a bit more obvious than things randomly glowing.” 

Grian chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, it was like it just clicked.” 

“Well, now we know what that statue thing does. We should tell X before it mutates anyone else.” 

“Yeah, good idea,” Grian replied nervously, biting his cheek. 

If that’s what Mumbo believed had happened, well, he wasn’t going to correct him. Somehow, his secret had survived. Sure, Mumbo knew about his wings, the whole server would in a few minutes, but they didn’t know the rest, and Grian would never, ever tell them. 

_Though, in the end, I might not have a choice._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys SO MUCH for all the love!! I'm so so happy to hear you enjoyed the first chapter <333. Have some happiness in return, because let's just say the next couple of chapters aren't so pleasant for our boy Grian...


	3. Opposite of Amnesia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything about the Watchers had been bitterly beautiful, with their glimmering robes and intricate language. How they stood so tall and proud, watching through their masks. Their cities, their creatures, their magic had all been so incredible it had physically hurt. Of course the one thing he couldn’t escape would elicit admiration and even jealousy. 
> 
> If they’d seen him before, they wouldn’t be smiling.

Two weeks had passed since the Watcher symbol had showed up, and Grian was going stir crazy waiting for something to happen. 

The rest of the server were on edge, too. X had spent much of the last two weeks examining the structure and running tests. Doc relocated Captain Etho from his trident shop to a comfy new home in a nearby river. A safety precaution, he’d called it. A flying Drowned wasn’t something he particularly wanted to deal with. And Grian had been up half the night every night tossing and turning with worry. 

What were the Watchers up to? 

He didn’t know what to do with himself, what he’d do if he came face to face with his captors. All he knew was that he’d never go back. But could he justify bringing the Watchers to Hermitcraft, or leaving and potentially leading them to yet another world? 

Ugh. Grian groaned into his pillow. The familiar _hrr_ of his villager roommate answered in kind. Grian sat up with a halfhearted groan, rubbing at his eyes blearily. 

Villager Grian stared at him, unblinking. 

“It’s like owning a cat,” Grian muttered, “except they make for better conversationalists than you, Villager Grian.” 

“Hrrrr.” 

“You just proved my point,” he snorted, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and standing with a stretch. 

Grian got ready quickly, pulling a dark green sweater over his head. With a soft grunt, he manifested his wings, recalling them from the Galaxy. A change in wardrobe and a change in scenery would do him some good, he reckoned. He’d take a break from building, maybe go shovel sand for a couple hours and stock up Sahara. Or maybe he’d explore. Stretch his wings a bit. Grian grinned at that. Yes, he’d explore some of the new chunks, find what waited beyond Hermitville’s spruce walls.

***

**TangoTek**: Pillager outposts aren’t supposed to be made of obsidian right

**Renthedog**: Yeah no man that’s weird 

**TangoTek**: Anyone know who built a tower out of obsidian 1000 blocks from Hermitville? 

**Renthedog**: Coords? 

Grian glanced at his wrist with a huff. His inventory was full with random junk and the loot of an abandoned desert temple, and his wings were starting to hurt from flying. His muscles were stiff and sore from months of disuse, and it would be a while longer before they fully recovered. It had been a bit of a challenge, adjusting to having them out so often. When he was alone, he’d often seal them in the Galaxy, just for convenience’s sake, but the Hermits didn’t know he could do that, and it would raise more questions than he cared to answer, so out in public, or where someone might see him, his wings were on full display. 

He’d received a lot of compliments on them, actually, which always made him chuckle, an ironic undertone to the sound. Of course something so awful would look so pretty. Everything about the Watchers had been bitterly beautiful, with their glimmering robes and intricate language. How they stood so tall and proud, watching through their masks. Their cities, their creatures, their magic had all been so incredible it had physically hurt. Of course the one thing he couldn’t escape would elicit admiration and even jealousy. 

If they’d seen him before, they wouldn’t be smiling. 

Grian shook those thoughts off, and tried to read the chat, lips pursed. Wait, what? Tango had found _what?_

Grian grabbed an empty shulker box from his ender chest and filled it up until his inventory was clear, then plugged the coords Tango had sent into his communicator. If the tower was a challenge from the Watchers like he thought it was, he had to get there quickly. 

Anxiety clawing at his insides, Grian ground his teeth and took off.

***

Tango and Ren were sitting on the tower’s roof when he arrived.

The tower itself was nestled in a taiga forest, and from a distance it was practically identical to a pillager outpost, but as you flew closer, it became clear just how unusual it was. The building was made mostly from obsidian, with supports of clay and barred windows. Its base was made of iron, and the roof was mostly snow. A spire of iron bars, end rods, and obsidian perched on top of the build. A Watcher build, most definitely, and the sight of it sent a shudder through his body. 

Tango waved him over and Grian swooped down beside him, wings buffeting the air as he gently landed. 

“Getting used to your wings, I see,” Tango grinned. 

The demon was one of the more unsettling Hermits, with his twitching tail and twisted horns. Ren was another mutated, though his russet ears and fluffy tail were certainly on the less frightening side. Both Hermits were wearing their usual outfits, though Ren had exchanged his shirt for one with a giant black peace sign on it. His sunglasses hung from his shirt collar, and his hair was pulled back into a ponytail. In comparison, Tango’s golden hair hung loose, and his red eyes were bright with laughter. 

“Yep,” Grian grinned, “though now I’m regretting every diamond I spent at Tek to the Skies.” 

Pushing down the queasy feeling in his gut, Grian walked up to the spire at the centre of the roof. “So,” he started, “have either of you gone inside yet?” 

“We were waiting for you, my dude,” Ren said cheerily. “C’mon, let’s get cracking.” 

“We think it’s a dungeon of some kind,” Tango explained, opening his elytra. “There’s a door down there, and some signs, though they don’t make much sense.” 

Signs? 

Grian nodded, letting the afternoon breeze deposit him in front of a pair of imposing spruce doors. Two oak signs stood in front of the entrance, and Grian paused, reading them carefully.

_Divide and conquer, choices three_

_Ice or flame or deep blue sea_

_The winner will a ruler be_

He frowned. “You guys read these yet?”

“Yeah,” Tango replied, tail flicking lazily, “though I only understand about half of it.” 

Grian turned to the second sign, his heart stopping.

_Ancient one, one of few_

_Turned your cloak and born anew_

_The past will catch up to you_

No.

_It’s about me._

Grian took a step back, wings bristling, hands half raised as if to fend off an attack. His head started to pound, _duh duh duh_, over and over again, and his mouth was dry as parchment. 

“Grian?” Ren asked, shooting his friend a worried look. “You alright, my dude?” 

_Breathe_. “Yeah, I just saw a bee,” Grian lied, half choking on his words. “I’m allergic.” _Breathe_. 

“Let’s get inside then,” Tango said, strolling up to the double doors, pushing them open without a moment’s hesitation. 

_Breathe_. 

Ren jogged up the stairs, tail wagging, and Grian forced himself to follow. _Duh, duh, duh_. 

The inside of the tower was exactly what Grian had expected. 

The floor was spruce, with a dark oak and spruce spiral staircase leading to another level above and disappearing into the ground below. To his left and right, huge windows with iron bars made up most of the wall, cobwebs leering at him from the corners. On the wall directly opposite was a Watcher symbol made of bedrock. A chest stood in front of it. 

The doors shut with a clang. 

Grian jumped out of his skin, yelping, wings puffed out in fright. 

Tango and Ren burst into laughter, and Grian laughed too, even if it was more forced than genuine, his heart in his throat. 

“Oh dude, you should’ve seen your face!” Ren guffawed, slapping his knee comically. 

“I’m sorry, Grian,” Tango giggled, “didn’t mean to frighten you, I swear. I just didn’t want the bee to get in.” 

_Breathe_. 

“I’ll get you back for that, just you wait,” he teased, shaking a finger at the unapologetic demon, who just grinned a sharp, toothy grin. 

“Come on, let’s focus, what do you think the signs meant?” Tango asked. “How did it start? Divide and conquer? Does that mean we have to split up?” 

“Divide and conquer, choices three,” Grian muttered, “those were the exact words, though there’s only two places to go from here.” 

“Maybe one of us has to stay down here?” Ren suggested. 

“Well,” Tango said, “if its a choice of fire, ice, or water, I’ll take fire any day. It probably won’t even affect me.” 

Grian wandered over to the chest, staring up at the Watcher symbol with hatred. His eyes burned, from fury or tears he couldn’t tell. He tugged at his sweater uncomfortably, the green wool suddenly suffocating. _Breathe, Grian. It’s just a sign, they aren’t actually here_. 

Grian knelt in front of the chest, popping it open with a grunt. Inside was a piece of paper, some coal, and a half stack of end rods. Frowning, Grian grabbed the paper, turning it over. 

An eye stared up at him. 

Cursing, he dropped the paper and scrambled back, colliding with Ren and nearly knocking the other Hermit over. 

“Dude, are you alright?” Ren asked, pulling Grian to his feet. “You’re really jumpy today.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just,” he stood, brushing off his pants. “I’m fine.” 

Ren looked unconvinced. “If you say so.” 

“Hey,” Tango called, “What was in the chest?” 

Grian looked up to see Tango at the top of the staircase, hanging over the side. 

“Some coal and end rods,” Grian answered. “What’s up there?” 

“Some signs and a weird looking statue; either of you gone downstairs yet?” 

“Not yet,” Ren responded. “Upstairs wasn’t like, themed or anything? No fire or ice?” 

“Nope, more of the same.” 

“Huh. That’s weird, dude. I thought each floor would’ve matched the sign outside.” 

“Well, the signs didn’t make much sense to begin with,” Grian said. “It said that whoever won would be, like, a king, or whatever, but I don’t see how you can win this.” 

“I’m heading down,” Ren announced, grabbing his sword. “See ya.” He jogged down the stairs, ducked beneath the floor, and descended into darkness. 

“Wait for me!” Tango yelled, jumping off the staircase and hitting the ground with a painful _crunch_. “Youch.” 

“I’ll catch up,” Grian called, but Tango was gone. 

He hesitated for a moment, then turned, taking the staircase to the second floor. Grian poked his head above the floorboards and came face to face with a Watcher. 

It was only a statue. 

_Calm down, Grian, it’s just a statue. Stone and clay and sandstone, nothing more_. 

The statue looked eerily real, like it would spring to life any moment, shriek a terrible cry, tell him _you never should’ve left_ and _look what you’ve done now_. But it didn’t. It stood there, stone and clay and sandstone, unmoving. The statue was tall, taking up most of the room, a pair of grey wings stretching from its back. It held out a staff, glowing faintly with the white light of an end rod, and its face was completely featureless. Only a statue. 

A few signs were scattered around the room, which looked just like the first one, and he recognized the puzzle immediately. A simple game of coordinates. Reading them again, he plugged the numbers into his communicator and almost smiled when a destination loaded in. Saving the coords, Grian joined the others downstairs, just in time for them to compete the simple cactus maze and reach whatever was at the end. 

“There’s a chest,” Tango called back, “with two diamonds, nice! Also a _lot_ of coal, and that’s it. Hey, didn’t the chest upstairs also have coal?” 

“Coal and end rods,” Ren confirmed, nodding. “So, uh, how are we splitting the diamonds, my dudes?” 

“You two can have them,” Grian offered. “I technically didn’t even do the maze. If you two are good, though, I’m going to head back. I’m exhausted.” 

“Thanks Grian, and feel better, dude.” 

“Bye, see ya!” 

Grian waved a last goodbye at the others and left quickly, his wings carrying him into the sky with a few powerful strokes. Beating against the air, Grian turned for home, letting the wind cool his cheeks and muffle his thoughts. 

In his fist was a crumpled piece of paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the incredible response!! I'm seriously blown away by all the love <3<3<3   
Writing-wise, chapters 4, 5, and 6 are pretty much good to go, chapter 7 needs to be edited, and I'm currently writing chapter 8! I'm really excited for you guys to read what I've got in store- the plot's getting going and the angst levels really pick up around 7 ;)c


	4. Maybe I'm Overjoyed, Maybe I'm Paranoid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Challenge the first.

**MumboJumbo**: I figured it out! 

**ImpulseSV**: Figured what out? 

**MumboJumbo**: The signs in the obsidian tower 

**MumboJumbo**: In the top room at least 

**MumboJumbo**: They’re coordinates 

**MumboJumbo**: Sending them now 

**MumboJumbo**: @everyone see you there? 

Grian glanced at his communicator as it buzzed at the ping, eyes widening as he realized what had happened. He’d kept the coords to himself, hoping against hope that the Hermits wouldn’t figure it out. Of course they had, though, and he was out of time. 

Grian had planned on heading to the new location the next day, having spent the last two days preparing. He’d fully enchanted a set of god armour, repaired all of his tools, made himself a new bow, and polished his trident until it gleamed. He’d over prepared and still he was worried. He’d barely slept, too, mind consumed with all the ways everything could go wrong. 

The Hermit grabbed a fresh stack of golden carrots from the chest beside his bed, waved a goodbye to Villager Grian, and ducked out into the streets of Hermitville. Summoning his wings, Grian sprinted down Sahara Street and shot into the air, typing the coords into his communicator. 

He had no idea what awaited him, but, Galaxy willing, it would all turn out okay. Please let it be okay.

***

The blizzard roared in fury.

The coords led straight to a snowy tundra, and the air was sharp and frozen. The snow was thick and furious, glaring white, blinding. A few lone trees dotted the landscape, huddled in the snow, their branches smothered by the weight of the snow bearing down. And there, directly ahead, the sky darkened to an ugly grey, and a snowstorm raged. 

**Grian**: Are you guys seeing this 

**MumboJumbo**: Seeing what? 

**Grian**: The blizzard 

Grian swooped closer, the air sharp against his skin. He shivered, his thick red sweater barely doing anything. He’d seen snowstorms before, though not as often on Hermitcraft- he didn’t often venture into the colder parts of the world- but this blizzard was something else entirely. Unease prickled beneath his skin, and he turned away, intending on going around the storm rather then deal with it and risk injury. Did the Watchers have something to do with it? His magic couldn’t do anything of the sort, but maybe, somewhere within those purple walls, was a Watcher with an affinity for ice. 

“Grian! Down here!” 

Speaking of. 

Stress was little more than a speck of pink and blue, and Grian tucked his wings against his back and fell toward her in a controlled dive, pulling up at the last second, kicking up snow as he landed. The other Hermit grinned brightly at him, her warm brown hair framing her face. A pair of pink earmuffs protected her ears from the biting cold, and a thick light blue scarf wrapped snugly around her neck. She carried her usual pink cardigan over one arm, and had switched her shirt and shorts for water- and snow- proof gear in dark black, all the better for heat retention. 

“Hiya, Stress,” Grian grinned back, “fancy meeting you here. I’m even more surprised to see you dressed up like that- I thought you loved the cold?” 

“Oh, I do,” Stress assured him, “but it’s better to be safe than sorry.” 

Grian nodded, in complete agreement. His clothes were all enchanted as it was, and he’d spent some time the night before adding some extra protection. Frostbite was not something he particularly wanted to deal with. 

“So, are you heading to whatever Mumbo’s found?” Grian asked. 

“Well, I saw he posted the coords in chat and I just had to check it out, whatever it is, though it seems there’s a wee bit of snow in our way, ain’t there?” 

“Yeah, just a bit,” Grian chuckled, “I was just going to go around. It’ll add an extra hour to the journey, but there’s not much else we can do.” 

This close to the heart of the storm, the air howled like a terrible beast, sending flurries of snow spiraling through the air. The sky was grey and blurry, practically whiteout conditions, even though the worst of the blizzard was rather far away. 

“Well…” Stress smiled, “there’s always me.” 

Throwing a cryptic yet still cheerful look at Grian, the Hermit snapped open her elytra, and, before Grian had a chance to say anything, popped off a rocket and shot into the air. Grian frowned to himself, but followed curiously. 

Grian flew in small circles, eyes wide in shock as he watched Stress work. He’d known she was mutated, knew it had something to do with ice, but this? This was incredible. He had a whole new appreciation for the short, bubbly Hermit. She was probably one of the strongest Hermits, right up there with Doc and Joe. 

She had flown directly into the maelstrom of ice unfearing, and, minutes later, a powerful blue glow shone from inside the storm. The roaring winds bucked and strained, the falling snow whipped into a frenzy, but the light expanded, and Grian could see clearly. 

Stress floated, glowing robin egg blue, arms outstretched, palms up, hair flying wildy. Ice formed along her limbs at unnatural speed, and Grian’s heart leapt into his throat. The snow seemed to twist toward her, forming funnels, and the light kept growing. Grian landed in knee deep snow, stumbling as he did so, gasping at the cold, staring up at the woman who, he realized, he’d severely underestimated. The winds died down, the snow fell slowly, drifting down with barely a flicker of movement. Snowflakes stuck to his hair, and his teeth were chattering, though he barely noticed it. 

Stress landed as gently as the snowflakes, touching down light as a feather. Her face was flushed, and her breathing heavy, but she jogged over to Grian with a giant grin on her face. 

“So,” she said, giggling at his awed expression, “what d'ya think?” 

“That was insane! The wind’s completely gone- well, basically, anyway- and- Stress, you were glowing!- I’m literally at a loss for words right now.” 

She giggled, tucking an arm into Grian’s. “It was nuffin. Come on, Grian, we’re going to be late.” 

He nodded wordlessly and opened his wings. They left together, flying a few feet apart, talking over the whistling wind, telling bad jokes and laughing loudly, and they soon arrived at the coords. 

It was hard to miss the giant ice castle. 

It appeared from nowhere, a sturdy rectangle of grey stone and blue ice. Towers rose from each corner, built of the same grey brick and interspersed with ice. They were capped with obsidian, and the roof of the castle was spruce. Snow piled high against the walls, and the windows were smoky grey glass. A collection of Hermits were clustered in front of the build. They’d set up a small shelter of oak and cobble a couple metres away outside the door. Grian circled lower, Stress gliding straight down. Grian landed in the freshly fallen snow, the powdery white snowstuff clinging to his clothes. Seeing them land, the Hermits retreated into the shelter, probably to let the others know they’d arrived. 

Mumbo ducked out from the shelter, dressed warmly in dark grey snow gear. A woolen red beanie was pulled down over his ears, a pair of white earmuffs securing it in place. A thick piece of black material covered his mouth, and he wore snow goggles. The end result looked nothing like Mumbo. He waddled over to the newcomers, waving a red-mitted hand in greeting. 

“Grian, Stress, glad you made it,” he called, stopping in front of them. Mumbo practically towered over both Stress and Grian- he was one of the tallest Hermits- but he was absolutely dwarfed by the giant structure looming above them. 

“Are we the last to arrive?” Stress asked. 

“Pretty much, yeah,” he responded. “Most of the others are inside the hut over there, it’s bigger than it looks, and the only ones who aren’t here are Jevin, Impulse, and Python.” 

“Python can’t make it,” a familiar voice shouted, head poking out of the door. “Says his cold gear is too damaged, and he’s cold-blooded, so all this ice and snow could seriously hurt him.” Iskall grinned when he spotted Stress and Grian, but didn’t leave the safety of the shelter. 

“Are we gonna wait for them?” Grian asked, nerves clawing at his belly. “We ran into a blizzard on the way over, which Stress, like, put out, which was awesome, so that’s why we took so long, by the way.” 

“It’s not a problem,” Mumbo assured him, “let’s go inside and see what the consensus is. I’m ready to go investigate, uh, whatever this is. I think this is all just a really elaborate prank. Who do you think it is?” 

“Wellll,” Stress drawled, “Python chickening out at the last second is suspicious, y’know? But I think it’s X, he’s the only one who could’ve put that bedrock in the shopping district.” 

“That bedrock gave Grian wings, though,” Mumbo pointed out skeptically. “X can’t have done that. I have no idea who’s behind the bedrock, but this building, and that tower? We can narrow the suspects down by build style, right Grian?” 

Grian jumped slightly. “Sorry,” he said, “drifted off a bit. What did you say?” 

Mumbo frowned. Or, at least, Grian thought he did. It was hard to tell under all those layers. 

The door to the small shelter opened with a muffled bang. Iskall gestured for them to hurry up, and the three Hermits escaped into the crowded warmth of the shelter. 

The floor was oak planks, and no less than three fires warmed the space, the smoke escaping through a small gap in the ceiling. A few chairs had been set up, but most of the Hermits were either standing or sprawled across the colourful blankets covering the floor. Iskall waited by the door, X, Biffa, and Wels stood in a corner, drinking steaming hot tea, while Doc was polishing his trident from the chair closest to the door. Tango, Zedaph, and TFC huddled around one fire, while Cleo, Joe, Scar, Cub, and Ren claimed the other two. False leaned against the left wall, sitting comfortably on a pile of blankets. The Hermits all turned and greeted their friends with bright laughter and easy smiles, and warmth blossomed in Grian’s chest. 

He was so incredibly nervous about whatever they were about to find that he could hardly think straight. He’d been tense the entire flight over, and while Stress’s company had eased his mind and loosened the knot in his stomach, he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was about to go horribly wrong. 

The ice castle wasn’t a typical Watcher build. He’d built thousands of obelisks and challenge rooms, seen thousands more across a hundred worlds, and he’d never seen anything like this castle before. The thought made him nervous. This was different, something new, and that unsettled him in ways he couldn’t describe. The Watchers had a rulebook. They did things a certain way. But they were changing things up, and Grian was certain he was the reason why. His very presence put the Hermits in danger, and now he might not be able to protect them. 

He sat down heavily on one of the wooden chairs, accepting a mug of something from someone- he was too worried to notice who- and brought the chipped ceramic mug to his lips, drinking the hot liquid gratefully. The hot chocolate filled him with warmth, the perfect temperature, just under scorching. He’d finished the whole thing before he even realized he’d taken another sip. 

During that time, Impulse had arrived, and, with Jevin nowhere to be seen, the Hermits voted to go explore the castle. Grian stood quickly, leaving his cooling mug on the chair, and pulled his sword from its sheath, the glimmering diamond weapon a familiar weight in his hand. Combat wasn’t his favourite activity in the world, but he wanted to be ready for whatever they were about to face. 

They trapeized out of the shelter, forming a single file line out of habit, which was quickly broken when everyone became aware of it. Grian fell into place beside Mumbo and Ren, the latter looking nervous and the other chatting excitedly, tail wagging. His thoughts were whirring like a machine, and he flexed his wings, having almost forgotten their existence. His magic burned inside of him, a secret still, but he wouldn’t hesitate to use it if something happened. Something was going to happen. Dread curled up in his chest like a living thing, wrapping its tail around his heart, sinking its claws into his flesh. What if he couldn’t protect them? He had no idea what was waiting in the castle. For all he knew, there could very well be a council of Watchers inside, arms crossed, heads titled, tittering under their breath. _Well, well, isn’t this a surprise? And, oh, look, you’ve brought your friends right to us! How convenient! Would you like to kill them, or should we?_

“Are you alright? Grian?” Mumbo raidated concern, glancing down at his friend. 

“Grian? Dude?” Ren gripped his shoulder, and Grian snapped to the present. 

“Huh? What are we talking about?” Grian shrugged Ren’s hand away, shoving his own into his pockets, sword back in its sheath. 

“You look pale,” Mumbo said, pulling the fabric away from his mouth to talk. “And you were zoned out a bit. Are you sure you’re good, mate?” 

“Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just thinking. The castle’s pretty huge, don’t you think? Who would make such a giant build for a prank?” 

“You have a point, there. I mean, if anything, the build style is pretty close to yours, don’t you think?” 

Grian swallowed. “Yeah, a bit. My builds are more detailed, though. I’ve spent _hours_ adding windows and fences to my Hermitville house.” 

“Why would someone even build all the way out here, anyway?” Ren added. “It’s hundreds of blocks away from anything else. Even by Nether, it’s a long journey, and there wasn’t an existing tunnel or anything.” 

“You went via the Nether?” Grian groaned. “Why didn’t I think of that? I froze my feathers off for nothing!” 

The three of them looked at each other and exploded into laughter, the tension gradually left Grian’s body. 

The Hermits stopped outside the huge wooden doors, staring up at the building. Zedaph fumbled with the handles for a moment before Cub offered his assistance, and the two of them unlocked the doors with a _click_. Cub turned back to grin at them all, eyes glinting blue in the gathering darkness, and pushed the doors open. 

Light flooded the entrance. 

_Here we go. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gonna lie, this chapter caused me some grief. The original version of it had some convoluted nonsense I was unhappy with, so I rewrote the ending and edited and polished it once more, fully intending to upload it a few days ago. Then school happened. I've been up to 11:30 every night this week and this fic took a backseat, but chapter 4 is finally here! In theory, chapter 5 will go up Sunday! I'm reserving Saturday for Minecon stuff lol. Annnywayyyy thank you so much for reading!


End file.
